5 Ways to End WWII
by Eye of a Hawk
Summary: Henrietta, Triela, Rico, Petra, Angelica, and their handlers are thrown into the midst of WWII thanks to some unscrupulous politics. But one thing their manipulator forgot is that you never want to mess with Section 1.
1. Chapter 1

**A.N. So this is a random idea I had- it actually started with Triela and a more "dark-gloomy alleyway" idea, but then I expanded it- and this was the first part that finished. I would love reviews and corrections, in case anything seems wrong or out of place. Or if you just want to give compliments- those are accepted too! Anyway, please read and review, and keep in mind this is somewhat AU as the Welfare Agency did not exist during WWII. This idea assumes that the Welfare Agency was opened a few years earlier (not that any of that technology got out to other countries, that is), and isstill based in Italy. This is Part 1 of 5 or 6. **

5 Ways to End World War II

Part I Henrietta: Vienna

The little girl with the violin case nearly skipped as she and her older brother approached the gilded, glowing opera house. Her short brown hair and pale face where warmed by the red, cloak-like coat she wore over her evening wear, which matched the elegance of her brother's suit. They walked up the sweeping staircase the grand entry way, only a small part of the stream of people, until they reached the top and broke away. They stopping to greet the doorman with obvious familiarity before entering a side door- one for the staff, musicians, and performers. Her Amati case banged familiarly against her legs and she waited patiently for her brother to close then carefully lock the door. When he finished, he turned and smiled at her, as if reassuring her. She smiled back, hesitantly, as she followed him into the dark back halls of the sprawling theater.

Their shoes clacked firmly on the cold floor until they reached another door. Inside the room were massive shadowed shapes- huge cello cases, enormous harps, and an old grand piano- arrayed neatly and covered lovingly. The little girl headed purposefully toward the section of violins, looking carefully down the selection of instruments. Her Amati case lay at her feet. The girl began wandering down the row, brushing her hand gently along the tops of the cases until she abruptly chose one, opening the case, pulling it out, and settling it under her chin, drawing the bow softly across the strings.

The man ignored her perusal- she would chose what she needed. Instead, his eyes were drawn to the towering harp, and he laid a gentle hand on its beautiful, graceful frame.

Her small voice pulled him from his reverie.

"I'm ready now, Jose." He smiled down at her again. "I'll carry that for you." He lifted her well-worn Amati case, and they left the storage room.

* * *

The small girl swayed as her violin pierced the air of the Opera House, melding with the soloist onstage into a stunning work of art. As the notes and the curtain drew to a close, the audience exploded in applause for the two young artisans.

One took a bow. The other did not.

* * *

The young soloist onstage blushed as the Fuehrer and his elite, powerful audience roared their approval. The old men and their wives gathered in the Fuehrer's gilded, golden box gushed their praise.

"Amazing!"

"Spectacular!"

"Those two are credits to the Fatherland!"

Their congratulations were interrupted by a knock on the door. An aide stood to answer it, blocking the view of the visitor until her admitted a man. The man thanked him, and then smiled at the assembled officials. "My name is Jose." he said softly, but clearly. "And my little sister wanted to thank the Fuehrer for coming to see the show." He stood back and ushered the little girl in, recognizable as the violinist by her elegant red costume. She grinned shyly and bowed slightly to the Fuehrer.

"Thank you." she said, hands clasped tightly around the handle of her case. "It was an honor to be able to play for you."

The wives smiled indulgently, and a few even cooed as the girl bent down to open her case. The man, her brother, stepped behind her as if watching her unpack her violin.

One of the aides frowned slightly. "Are you going to give us a private rendition? But the show is-"

He fell, moments behind the Fuehrer himself as the girl stood with her blazing machine gun, and bullets flew through the box. Within moments, the red and gold gilt of the box was accented with the red of blood. Bodies sprawled across their elegant theater seats. The child paused. Coldly and professionally, she ensured her target was dead, then the witnesses. One man groaned from behind his wife's corpse and another gun coughed- this time the man's. He lowered the empty gun to his side, then followed the girl with his eyes as she first packed her gun away carefully, then checked her gown for stains. There were none. Her eyes met her brother's smiling ones as she looked up at him for approval, and the girl ducked her head to hide her happy blush. Then she picked up her case, and they left the same way they came- the little child violinist and her proud older brother.

* * *

No one heard the shots over the applause.


	2. Chapter 2

**A.N. So I apologize to those readers who read my first chapters, and then bothered to come back for my second. I am so sorry for taking so long. I actually have had the whole story written since I posed the first segment, but never had a free moment to type it up (plus, I hate typing multipage chapters cause they're so long and I write microscopically). Anyway, thanks for staying with me, and now that this longest chapter is up, the others should come more rapidly. **

**Also, please review. Reviews help me to develop my writing style, and I don't get much practice writing creatively. I get the feeling that I describe TOO much and am a kinda pretentious when I write, but its hard too critique your won writing...so please review! Show the authors you appreciate (or don't) their writing!**

5 Ways to End World War II

Part II Triela: Japan

The troops sat tensely on their plane, already strapped into their seats, but the plane was still motionless. A few faint grumbles permeated the nervous anticipation until the someone finally snapped.

"Why the hell haven't we taken off yet?"

The sergeant's eyes snapped to the malcontent but even he, with his "bad cop" act, couldn't fault the question, so he merely replied with a curt, vague answer.

"We're waiting for the last members of the team."

The soldiers frowned, subtly craning their heads around the compartment and confirming that yes, all the men in their squad were indeed present.

But two of the seats were still empty.

"Who the hell is important enough to delay us like this?" another man muttered to his neighbor, emboldened by the lack an explosion at the previous question. The neighbor just shrugged. "Beats me. Still, for a mission like this, who _wouldn't_ want extra help?" The man snorted and the sergeant's voice cracked through the compartment again. "That's enough soldier!"

Unexpectedly, the sergeant paused in his berating, cocking his head towards, then turning to face the hatch. The various muttered conversations halted as the soldiers sensed the change. Which meant every pair of eyes was focused on the hatch as the final team members entered.

A pair of small hands, unusually long legs, and even longer blonde pigtails silenced the troops, who gaped at the figure in the front of the plane. The shock was finally broken as one of the men, a hapless, arrogant newbie under the sergeant's tyranny, snorted with laughter.

"I think girlie here got on the wrong plane. Sorry honey-" He abruptly shut up as the sergeant strode fiercely over and grabbed by the front of his uniform. "That's enough out of you soldier. Shut the hell up or I'll haul your ass in front of the nearest court martial for insubordination and insulting a _higher ranking officer_!"

The girl's eyebrows quirked and she muttered out of the corner of her mouth to the man who'd entered behind her. "I didn't know I even _had_ an _official_ rank." The man behind her failed to react, and replied tonelessly, "There was no need to tell you. You hardly follow orders as is." Her return scowl was rendered comical by the differences in their height, so instead she stalked down the aisle to the empty seats. Amid the crowded compartment her bag, a long tube like an artist's easel case, smacked a dozing soldier in the head. He jerked awake with an angry yell. "Hey what the-oh!" His tone instantly changed as he saw the person in front of him. "I didn't…" he trailed off. Then he peered closer at the girl.

"Hey! Whaddaya know- its princess!" he exclaimed, elbowing the man sleeping next to him. "Hey. Amadeo. It's the little bunny we trained with, that time as cadets!"

Amadeo squinted in the poor lighting as well, and a huge grin spread across his face as he confirmed her identity. "It _is_ Princess. It's great to see you! Well-" he said, shoving himself out of his seat, "looks like we're not even needed here. See ya' later!" The girl laughed at his statement, neatly tripping him back into his chair. "You wish. You're just trying to find an excuse to get some down time." Comically sprawled across his chair, as well as his neighbors, Amadeo mock-scowled up at her. "But you're no fun. You never leave any for anyone else!"

Their banter was interrupted by the sergeant, who nearly threw the hapless Amadeo back into his seat before letting the girl continue down the aisle. "Pay attention men!" he roared. "Losing focus now means losing lives later." It was fortunate the girl's back was to him, because she couldn't restrain her eye roll. But her handler saw and sighed.

"Triela…"

She harrumphed at him in reply and flopped into her seat at the back of the plane. 'Yes sir." The two were attaching their restraint harnesses quickly and competently, a few of the soldiers noted, as the sergeant banged on the metal barrier between the hold and the cockpit. "Alright. We're good back here." He was answered with the sound of two twin propellers roaring to life, and moments later the C40 was in the air. Many of the soldiers at this point broke out cards, books, or cigarettes. Others just leaned their heads back and began to snore. But the girl didn't move from her position seated up right with her hands clasped on the strap of her case (also situated in her lap) and eyes staring straight forward, boring a hole in the opposite bulkhead.

One discontented soldier muttered loud enough to be hear several seats down. "What- no coloring book for the little girlie? But what if she gets _bored_?" he drawled with mock concern and a patronizing grin. Her face tightened, but she refrained from further reaction. Next to her, her handler began to snore. "I wonder why the little baby's coming with us?" he continued, trying to get a rise out of her. "Is it 'Daddy-bring-his-kid-to-work day?" He gained confidence at the snickers and began to dig deeper. "Or is it that maybe _he,_" the soldier drawled, nodding his head at the sleeping handler, "couldn't _bear_ to be away from such cute… entertainment… for very long?" A couple of deeper sniggers answered his implication. Amadeo was about to throw himself across the aisle to throttle the soldier, but Triela made her move first. Her casual motions contrasted with her furiously pale face as she reached down by her feet to pull her case onto her lap and opened it. With slow precise movements, she removed its contents. First a case, filled with rattling rounds. Then a long knife- a bayonet- attached to its ring. Next a barrel, part of her Model 97 sniper rifle. Then, in front of her increasingly pale audience, she proceeded to carefully and slowly inspect the gun, checking each and every piece thoroughly before reconstructing the gun with terrifying speed that spoke of hours of practice.

Then she looked up at the soldiers, smile angelically, and inserted a fully magazine without looking down. Her audience winced at the sight. The cute little pigtailed child- blonde haired and blue-eyed- handling an advanced and deadly weapon with such professional competence unnerved even the veteran soldiers. The girl kept smiling, making eye contact with each and every soldier who'd laughed until he looked down or away. Within moments the occupants of the plane were sufficiently cowed and she returned to staring blankly at the wall. No one spoke for the rest of the flight.

* * *

8 uncomfortable hours later, the sergeant returned, forcing his way down the aisle until he could address all of the passengers. "Alright troops. Listen up. We'll be reaching the drop point in 30 minutes. Get ready to move out." A sudden flurry of action followed his announcement as soldier shook their neighbors, put away personal belongings, and pulled out their gear. Buckles clicked and metal clattered as people checked their equipment and started an undignified scramble to don their parachute harnesses in the cramped space, grunting apologies as they elbowed each other during their attempts. Triela and Hilshire didn't move anymore than to check and re-holster their guns again. Her rifle across her lap and her P232 in her shoulder holster, Triela leaned over to Hilshire and whispered. "Now will you tell me what our mission is?"

"Just take the building and eliminate the leadership." He said monotonously staring unseeingly at the wall in front of him. "It's a favor for some higher-up in the government."

Triela scowled at the lack of elaboration. "And just where exactly are we?"

"Where do you think?" he said. She scowled again. She hated his habit of turning her questions back on her. It wasn't even that unreasonable of a question, damnit! Her well trained brain overrode her annoyance though. They were in a plane, traveling at a little more than 500 mph, which was the best that the fully loaded, not to mention experimental plane (which was a cross between a Me-163 Komet and a carrier plane) could do, and they'd been at it for about 10 hours straight. So what was about 10 hrs away from Italy? Gee, only most of the world.

But, she continued muse, when they'd gotten on the plane (late, she added, thanks to _Hillshire_) the sun had definitely been rising at the end of their runway. Ergo, they were headed east, assumedly, crossing some section of Asia. And seeing that all the soldiers were members of the same elite Italian squad, it was _not _an Axis move.

Perhaps it had something to do with the missions Henrietta, Rico and the others left on. But if they were headed to Asia, she continued, refocusing her train of thought, the only two countries that really mattered there, militarily at least, were China and Japan. As it was, there was little _one lonely squad_ of Italians, not matter how elite, and a Fratello could do against an entire country.

Plus, if it was not an Axis approved move, it was possible that the mission was a sign of internal tension between the Axis powers coming to light.

Ergo -she liked using that word- it was a betrayal move between former allies and _that _meant that they were targeting Japan. And the orders, she realized just as rapidly.

_Clear the building and ensure the deaths of the leaders."_

"Does this mean we're going for the Japanese command structure, or straight for the emperor? Are we trying to crush their moral or their actual military strength? Cause the emperor's not actually that useful a guy." she said without a pause, despite her nonstop barrage of questions. "We're attacking their HQ, aren't we?" The men sitting next to her perked up, their curiosity aroused, and several gave her long, reconsidering looks that almost, even if none of them were prepared to admit it, bordered on impressed. Hillshire looked over at Triela as well and she could have sworn, if she didn't know him better, that there was for a moment- _just a moment_- a glimmer of pride in his eyes.

"Yes. Apparently the government no longer feels our alliance to be mutually beneficial. "

Triela sighed in reluctant understanding. She _hated_ politics, and she hated these stupid sorts of "loyalty" tests. But it was too late to back out. The back of the plane was opening and the men were being herded into place, shuffling with difficulty to the edge of the platform. Triela joined the line, clipping her automatic line onto her parachute, then readjusted her grip on her weapon to calm her sudden nerves.

Hillshire stole a glance at her and registered her blank expression and tighter-than-normal hold on her beloved gun. She wasn't…_worried_, was she? Ever since the fight with Pinocchio, dead as he was, she just didn't seem the same. The usual fire should have returned by now, and he thought the results of her last several missions were just the normal rehabilitation nerves. But she should have gotten over it by now. His hand moved unconsciously towards his pockets and his fingers tightened convulsively around the small vial. He chided himself at his burst of emotion but nevertheless, he secretly admitted, he was glad he'd brought it with him. _Just in case_. Pushing the unwanted worries from his mind, Hillshire attached his own line and followed the others to the edge.

* * *

"T-minus 5…4…3…2…1. GO!" the sergeant bellowed. Unhesitatingly the two leapt. Free fall whipped at Triela's hair violently, then her line caught, and she was jerked even more violently by the blossoming of her chute.

She gasped as the straps dug into her ribs, constricting her lungs in an attempt to control her descent. The soldiers around her grunted as their parachutes followed suit, but Triela couldn't hear them. She'd opened fire on the ground defenses, raking the soldiers rushing to their stations with machine gun fire. Her magazine clicked dry, and she discarded the gun, instead of reloading. It clattered to the ground moments before she contacted the pavement, smoothly falling to one knee to provide cover-fire.

An unfortunate enemy soldier's head popped out from behind a vehicle. She dispatched him, and moved on. By the time the other soldiers reached the ground, the landing zone was clear of living bodies.

Triela was up and running before most of them had discarded their own parachutes. It didn't matter. She had her guns and her Hillshire was right behind her. The soldiers were just backup. The cyborgs were the ones who could be risked doing the _real _work.

* * *

Triela flattened herself against the wall, fishing through her belt for a stun grenade. Flipping it into the room, she crouched against the wall as the room exploded into blinding light, then followed the grenade in, rolling to a stop and opening fire. The unsuspecting soldiers grunted as they died, not even having the chance to scream before they were splattered across their consols. But the cyborg was already moving on, leaving it to her handler to mop up any of the - highly unlikely- survivors.

* * *

The Japanese soldiers finally began to rally, but Triela was a scythe, slicing through their ranks like a bloody, deadly ghost. Distantly, somewhere in the background, she registered the growing chatter of gunfire. Several enemy soldiers raced down the hallway towards her but she flattened herself into the shadows, rather than attacking. She had to save her ammo for the people who weren't already engaging the other Italian soldiers. Hillshire couched near her, hiding in the doorway of a deserted room and whispered, after the last soldier passed, to Triela directly, instead of through their headsets. "The command bunker is towards the center, down several stories. We'll have to secure the elevator."

"Affirmative."

* * *

Triela huddled behind a wall and glared ferociously at the people around the corner. Somehow the Japanese had gotten a Gatling set up right in front of the _one_ elevator shaft she needed to access. Repeated attempts to uses stun grenades had failed- the gun crew just fired continuously into the glare until visibility returned. But they _had_ to be nearing the end of their ammo supply, didn't they? The thoughts slid instantly through the smooth, deadly calm of her combat high. One or two more charges, she though, fingering her remaining grenades, ought to do it. And if it didn't… Pushing the thought aside, she readied another grenade, tossing around the corner, then leaping after it.

The gun crew reacted instantly as the room exploded in bright light. The gunner burst into action and fired wildly into the glare. But no screams accompanied the fire, no shots seemed to land.

Then, with a rattle, the empty ammo belt fell from the gun. One of the soldiers scrambled frantically for more ammo just as the air cleared. Triela materialized right in front of the Gatling.

"Shi-" one of the soldiers began to yell, but he fell with a bullet in his head. His fellow soldiers joined in and the way to the elevator was cleared. Triela paused her fired for a few moments to allow Hillshire around the corner.

"You alright?" he asked, jerking his chin and the blood dripping down her face. "Yeah" Triela said, wiping at it absently. "Its just a nick. I guess I didn't stay low enough when I was crawling." And before he could convince her to put at least a temporary bandage on it, she'd spun away from him and reached the elevator.

Yanking open the doors, Triela peered down the shaft. "We're in luck," she called over her shoulder, squinting down at the elevator carriage. "It's at the bottom." Hillshire uncoiled a length of rope from his shoulder and tossed it to the cyborg. A quick flick of the wrist, a twist of the rope, and she was sailing down the black shaft.

Hillshire was right behind her.

* * *

2nd Lieutenant Komaruchi let out a shaky breath, discreetly wiping his sweaty palms on his carefully creased trousers. The atmosphere in the control center was beyond tense. Crackling radio messages frantically tracked the invaders' progress deep into the heart of the building despite their best, but admittedly unprepared, defensive efforts. Even the advantage of the territory was not enough to hold off the invaders- their enemy was terrifyingly well-informed.

Another blast rattled the command center and several officers- including Komaruchi- flinched. The young lieutenant mentally berated himself for showing such dishonorable weakness when the whole world rocked like the epicenter of a monstrous earthquake.

The door didn't burst- it simply disintegrated from the explosion, and the front half of the command center melted into chaos as shrapnel tore though the senior HQ personnel. Within moments, the scene was rendered into one of blood-splattered machinery. Komaruchi stared in horror at the scene, the emotion redoubling as he realized the source of the fine, red mist floating with the dust in the room's foggy air.

Bile rose in the back of his throat, and he choked it back, chest heaving, as he felt the droplets recondense, then roll grotesquely down his skin. In an effort to maintain himself, the you man tore his eyes from the carnage. They alighted on the crumbling wall that was all that remained of the thick steel door.

There was a figure standing there- shadowed by the debris and rubble. The image solidified as the rest of the mist condensed on various objects and surfaces and the already ragged breath caught in his throat.

"B-But your-!" Words failed him as the young girl materialized. In his disbelief, time seemed suspended, the world slowed to an agonizing speed before him. The figure's gun rose with ominous implacability and began blazing towards the survivors.

The last thought Komaruchi had before he died was that she looked to be _exactly_ the same age as his _beloved little sister..._

* * *

**A.N. So I wasn't really sure about military lingo, and how accurate the seargent's little speeches were (do they use "T-minus" in the military? or is that just NASA). Anyway, if anyone knows, or even if you don't, please review and tell me how it went! I would also love feedback on the fighting b/c it still feels a little repetitive and unrealistic to me. I'm also a little worried research-wise; I'm not sure what the military structure was in Japan at that time (would they have 2nd lieutenants) and also the accuracy of the gatling gun. I'm not really sure thats something they would have. Oh well. If anyone knows the details, I will happily correct them.**


	3. Chapter 3

5 Ways to End World War II

Part III Rico: England

Brisk autumn traffic bustled around London, dodging fallen building and crumbling rubble, but energy pulsed through the streets and air. The world may be at war, but life goes on. Loud sounds of life and the rumbling of vehicles on the street masked the metallic clicks of the case being unlocked. It's contents rustled as they were lovingly and competently removed, assembling quickly with small clicks as each part slotted into place. A small radio crackled.

"Target has passed the window. ETA 10 seconds."

One figure looked at the other and, at the nod, slid the long barrel across the rooftop, settling the other end against the small, sturdy shoulder it had been modified to fit. Bright blue eyes peered through the precision scope. A small sigh escaped, and the body tightened, readying for the right moment.

Across the road, a door swung open and an entourage of black suited men emerged. The paused, turning towards the doorway, clearly waiting for the final figure to appear. As the portly figure in the crisp blue suit appeared, they began moved forward again, chatting and exchanging handshakes. The target smiled, chuckling politely with the others at some unheard comment when a red dot appeared on his forehead.

Head thrown back, there was a moment of frozen time as his eyes widened and mouth gaped. Then the light disappeared and blood sprayed from his forehead.

* * *

The small figure lifted glowing blue eyes from the scope and found the face of her companion. The man squinted through a pair of military binoculars, not meeting the sniper's face until the kill was confirmed.

" Alright. Pack it up and withdraw."

The small face wavered, as if its owner was trying to hide some sort of disappointment, until it chose and broke into a broad smile and a small, high voice chirped back.

"Yes Jean!"

Moments later, the rooftop was deserted, and no one ever knew who had assassinated Churchill.


	4. Chapter 4

5 Ways to End World War II

Part IV Petra: America

On the gently winding avenue under the drooping trees lay the wreck- crushed metal frames, warped by the heat and impact that fused two cars as one. Cherry blossoms floated down to the top of the car, as if foreshadowing the white bouquets to be laid atop the pair of flag-laden caskets. Nothing moved but the flickering of flames over the cars.

Then the second car heaved- the crumpled door tearing from its frame as a solid kick contacted it. A thin, redheaded figure heaved itself from the mechanical remains, absorbing the situation in a single blink.

By the time the girl had cleared the car, she'd adopted a sufficiently hysterical expression. Screaming desperately, she ran through the approaching government men and fell to her knees, scrabbling frantically at the wreck.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god oh my _god_!" she shrieked senselessly, trying to uncover the mangled bodies in the car with just the strength of a teenage girl. "Why?" she screamed at the sky, before collapsing against the car sobbing, bloody and bruised. The government men were at a loss. The sudden death of the passengers, and now this hysterical girl who'd caused it- the shock left them motionless. But one figure, just pulling up in a nondescript black car, shoved his way authoritatively through the black suited mass.

"Miss. You're going to have to come with me. We need to get your statement and…" Spouting official phrases with intimidating force, he reached the girl and grabbed her arms, hauling up her limp form before bodily carrying her from the scene. Somehow it broke the stasis and several other bystanders hesitantly approached the car, gaining haste and desperation as voices began to rise. Someone thought to find the nearest house along the empty country road for a phone, and one of the aides was reduced to tears and screaming, effectively replacing the redhead. The scene was reduced to hysterical chaos.

The girl and the official were already in a car though, speeding down the avenue as inconspicuously as possible. As they passed a bend, the man stripped off his glasses and wig. The redhead smiled at him, wiping off the light makeup that made her seem so young, and pulling down the mirror to reapply her normal layers.

"So how was that for some acting?"

Alessandro smiled at the girl." You read them pretty well, Petra." he said, impressed.

* * *

A week later, a stunned country watched solemn funeral of the former President and First Lady Roosevelt.

The bouquets were white.

White cherry blossoms.


	5. Chapter 5

5 Ways to End World War II

Part V Angelica: Italy

Priscilla swept into the room with her usual energy. Angelica looked up at her and greeted the older woman in her small, quiet voice.

"Hello Priscilla."The girl set aside the weapon she was cleaning and hopped off the chair. "Marco's in the back. He's waiting for you."

Angelica's handler was settled in a chair with his feet thrown up on the table. His glasses glinted in the light of the TV as he scanned the report in his hands. Priscilla shut the door behind her and leaned against it sighing. "I can't wait until the whole deal is over." she groused, running a hand through her hair. "What are you looking at?"

Marco tossed the folder at her and answered with his customary brusqueness. "His second-in-command ordered us to eliminate Mussolini." Priscilla rolled her eyes, trying to hide the disappointed slump of her shoulders with sarcasm. "I just _love_ all this political loyalty." she said, rolling her eyes sarcastically. "When are you going to do it?"

Marco just shrugged noncommittally and didn't reply. Priscilla tried again. "Is the client happy with your plan?" _Or_ _lack there of_ she added silently. Marco was showing less and less interest in his work these days, and seemed to have developed a worrisome apathy to his missions. The boss wasn't going to be happy if the higher-ups started exerting financial pressure on Section 2 just because Marco couldn't be bothered to complete one mission, no mattered how politically disgusting.

'I don't know" Marco said, interrupting her thoughts. "He chose an unfortunate meeting to attend." Priscilla's eyes widened abruptly in understanding and she began to chuckle. In the background, the news anchor was introducing an emergency live broadcast of the government building where Mussolini had been meeting with his advisors.

It was rubble. Angelica peered up at Marco and smiled happily as Priscilla's laugh echoed through the compound.


	6. Chapter 6

5 Ways to End World War II

Part VII: Epilogue

The world was stunned.

Then abruptly, life went on. Bemused soldiers filtered home to surprised, then joyful, spouses and families. Babies were born, homes rebuilt, and the persecuted reabsorbed back into life with a shamefaced sort of apology as hatred faded and reason returned.

But the governments collapsed.

* * *

America was shocked, but soon enough swore in the vice president. The lost leader was mourned bitterly, but the elected country moved on.

* * *

Germany collapsed. The corrupt rulers scrambled to control the people, but they failed. Oddly enough, the fall was not chaotic or violent. There was a steely-eyed kind of determination within the people to avoid such a hideous brainwashing again, and within half a year, there was a new government of the people, trying to restore the country.

* * *

It's ally Japan, on the other hand, noticed nothing at all. The empire brushed off the loss of its military leaders as the fate of weak and unprepared fools, and continued it's relentless stride for power.

* * *

England was not so lucky. The already precariously positioned country suffered one blow too many and the once-great empire fell to rubble. Anarchy reigned as numerous attempts to restore order failed. People fled the country, desperate to find food, money, and opportunity, and the island country faced starvation in the face of it's economic and political fall. It's former allies had no time or loyalty to spare for their faltering sister.

* * *

Italy survived with a minor coup-d'état. Before the week was out, there was a new, rich, opportunistic politician sitting atop. The grapes still grew. The trains still ran.

* * *

A crisis was diverted. But no one would know when those actions would come back to haunt.

After all, fear of the unknown is human nature, and a lesson not taught is a lesson not learned.

* * *

**A.N. So I kind of added the last three chapters all at once, but those have been finished for AGES. The main hold-up was the second chapter because it was so long to type (from handwritten notes, at least). Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the story, and please tell me your thoughts- they're always welcome!**


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